


What Dreams May Come

by Trekgloria



Category: Poldark (TV 2015)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-05-17 06:56:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14827535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trekgloria/pseuds/Trekgloria
Summary: Ross reviews what his night with Elizabeth has meant for each of them.  He is hurt, guilty, but unable to fully rectify any of the pain he has caused.This is not erotic, feel safe with that.  But it is very dark and philosophical and may not be to everyone's liking.  Ross is the guilty party in this.  Elizabeth and Demelza are who suffer for his behavior, something he is coming to terms with.  Again, might not be to everyone's liking, but I do appreciate opinions.  Writing is such a solitary path, but like the tree that falls in the forest, without someone to hear the story is it silent.Please let me know your opinion, even if different.





	What Dreams May Come

What Dreams May Come

The brandy had not done its job tonight Ross thought lying on the hard, narrow cot. But then it rarely did anymore, no matter how much he drank between dinner and bed or in spite of hours working in the mine or out in the fields. Though he might exhaust his body, his mind could never settle since that night. And tonight, Ross still felt polluted, a sense of alienation, an outcast in his own home, and unwelcome amongst his family, forced to inhabit a temporal purgatory. His feeble ablutions were neither desired nor sufficient to reinstate him to his life before. He needed remission for his sin, until then Ross was forced to wonder through this life little more than a shade, seeking that forgiveness and pardon for his transgression.

And tonight, lying alone, his wife and child in the room above, his spirit was like an injured beast in pain, licking his wounds. Watching Demelza carry Jeremy upstairs was another reminder of what he had lost. All the little things that defined his being Ross, a husband, a father, a respected gentleman, gone. Rarely had he appreciated them before, just knowing each was a part of the flow that characterized his life, but now a heartbreaking memory of his former reality. Only in the clarity of this moment, did he realize and even appreciate their existence because they had been ceded for his transgression. Sacrificed, the tiny actions that anchored him to this world, giving him reasons to strive, to live, to love, squandered for his sin. No longer was it his privilege to carry a sleepy Jeremy up to bed. He had forfeited this and so many other things with a single abuse. 

For a moment, Ross was a child again, and thought what if Joshua had done this to Grace? When he was Jeremy’s age, Joshua was who he ran to meet at the end of the day for a few minutes of his time, but Grace was indispensable, providing safety, and comfort. And tonight, Ross recalled the pleasure of carrying a sleepy child upstairs; his son would wrap his arms around his neck and squeeze so tight, and whisper Papa. He would feel Demelza reach out and stoke the child’s curls and then skim her fingers along his neck and a prickle of excitement would rise within him. Ross knew Demelza loved to touch him softly, make that body to body connection, a gentle sweep of her hand across his bow to push his curls away, or run her hand along his chest to smooth the wrinkles of his shirt, or when she cupped his face with her hands and pulled it to hers to kiss him when he was lost in thought and she wanted his attention. Those tender casual caresses filled with love and affection, once offered as confirmation of her love, had ceased. Ross knew Demelza would smile as they went up together, even without turning to see her expression, she always smiled as they went up to bed. But few smiles were tendered now, certainly none to him. To others yes, even Prudie. But now Demelza was withdrawn and remote, too often her eyes cast down, staring at the floor when he entered the room, unable or unwilling to look at him. And she rarely remained in the same space with him, as if the very presence of him contaminated her. Instead busying herself in the kitchen or puttering in another room, anything to avoid him. Even Garrick seemed confused, so use to lying between them in the library after dinner; he would come in to be near her, but as she avoided places where Ross was, now, without Demelza there, he’d turn, go and search for her. Garrick was faithful, more than faithful, the dog would never hurt her, die even to protect her. Surprising how an animal could be trusted, depended on, never failing in its devotion.

Tonight he had received another rebuff to his coarse attempt to start a conversation, to have her look at him, even if it wasn’t in the old familiar love, just to have her look at him. Ross needed for Demelza to see him, else he feared he would fade away. He needed her eyes to roam over his body, remember him, to read his pain, to accept, yes accept the past and suss out a way to make it work. But, Demelza remained distant from him in thought and physical touch. Even when they briefly shared time together in a room, or discussions about the house or farm were necessary, she had little interest in anything he had to say, politely acknowledging that he spoke to her, replying to any questions with terse answers, as if she didn’t even have enough care to give him more than the most simplistic responses. But why should she? She had invested everything, and while many might think she had far exceeded her expectations in life, Ross knew otherwise. Gossip of a country squire using his scullery maid for carnal pleasure had circulated through the community for months. He had overheard the old chinwags accusing him and her of debauchery and seen the looks the men accorded him, as they lusted over Demelza. None of it true till that one night when Demelza offered without hope or expectation a woman’s only treasure, her love given with her body. With that one act, Ross faced his future. He could become the fornicator who abused the women of the community, till eventually he needed to fob them off to another for a few coins. Or he could be honorable, and take the woman who loved him, had in many ways already become everything he required as wife. So, Ross married the maid. 

And while the role of seducer was tolerated, if chided by society, marrying a woman beneath his class made him a social outcast. The gossip flamed by that action all but removed him from polite society. No longer a desirable squire to join fellow members of the gentry, instead his life became easy, protected, cocooned by this marriage. But, eventually the members of his society met and accepted Demelza, and together they enjoyed a liminal existence, like Janus, bridging both the censure but now even regard of the local gentry and common working class, able to navigate each equally. But, tonight, like so many nights before, Ross realized with one foolish and cursed act he had lost everything that truly mattered and now reaped a bitter and worthless harvest.

Still Ross rationalized, surely Demelza must eventually understand he was unable to undo the past. And not just the indiscretion of that night, but the deeper past he shared with Elizabeth, or even the one he had imagined he would have experienced with her. Could Demelza not accept his need and behavior for that night, even if hurtful, that it had not been aimed at her? Could she not separate the man she had loved and accept the demons which drove him were beyond his control? In his pain, Ross was sure Demelza must ultimately realize this and then she and their healing could begin.

And, yet when asked outright by Demelza who he wanted, he could not choose between her or Elizabeth, but begged for a little time, a little time. For what end, and why did he need a little time Ross wondered? No longer was Demelza all he knew and Elizabeth a fantasy. That night Ross had broken his troth with Demelza and claimed something from Elizabeth he was not entitled to. Either of those actions was cruel to each woman he claimed to love, combined they were destructive to both. Why did he not know, how could he not know? What else did he require to decide whom he loved, even if it was only whom he loved more? That both women realized this indecision on his part only served to humiliate and punish them more than either deserved. But Ross was crushed by the need to decide, to choose, and maybe be rejected by both. 

His actions that night may have set both women on courses which would not allow him share a life with either. By going to Elizabeth that night, after years of honored by Demelza’s love and devotion. What that act must that have expressed about his feelings for her, his wife, mother of his children, and yet he still sought joining with another woman? But for Elizabeth, after taking her that night, his total neglect now must equally feel as if she was only to be sexually used and then abandoned. Men were hanged for such actions. Was it only her fear, her humiliation, and shame that kept her from reporting his crime? He had taken her and she in good faith had accepted that he would be honorable and marry her. Elizabeth had fully expected him to return to her, even postponed her marriage to George. The pain of each woman was palatable in this room, the conscience of each seemed to glare at him, each waiting for him to simply decide.

In the dark of this room and the deep recess of his mind, Ross acknowledged even now he thought of Elizabeth, and loved her still. An unhealthy attachment, but the demons that drove Ross twigged him in using Elizabeth. Rolling onto his back, Ross stared up; surely it was not just her beauty, though he often had thought her the most beautiful girl and even now, woman he had ever known. From the fist moment he saw her, Ross was smitten. An immediate sensation cascaded over his body, like a man placed under a spell by an enchantress, he had become her slave, her devoted acolyte, wanting only to be her knight in shining armor. Such a response, feral, instinctively rising within him, something over which he had no control. Though he railed at his weakness for his continued devotion to a woman who was not his, Ross could not completely end his obsession with Elizabeth. 

For Ross, what he had felt for Elizabeth was love, but more, he craved her as a drunk coming off his bender, only thirsty for more of the very thing that was destroying him, to satiate and ease the pain of craving. He had fought this appetite, lust, and constant desire for her as bitterly as his battles in the war. Though their time as youthful lovers had been brief, it had been a fire that burned so bright, Ross was sure he would be consumed, but willingly so. And even while he was off to war, the very memory of Elizabeth was what held him safe when all around the Keres stalked him. Yet Ross survived the slaughter to return to Elizabeth, for without that desire for her, he may have taken unnecessary risks, given up, accepted a different fate. It had been her face, her voice, her touch and her pledge that was his emotional anchor during those years. He had held each memory as a treasured artifact of faith, a belief she would be there, ease his pain, replace those memories with a shared life filled with love. And yet, he had been so deceived, by himself, by Elizabeth, by fate, he was unable to decide where the fault lay.

Upon returning to Cornwall, Ross discovered Elizabeth had accepted the report of his death. Was it because she had not mourned and donned a sackcloth in her grief for loss of Ross, but instead moved on, willingly take another and offer to that man her pledge and enthusiasm to fulfill his desires? Was it that hurt that drove him? Could she not have mourned a little longer? Why could he not grieve, accept this fate, and move on? While Ross had been dead for Elizabeth for those few months, giving her time to foresee life without him; for Ross she had never died and his love never wavered, or faced the gaping maw of loss. For Elizabeth, the finality of the grave severed her attachment, but for Ross, only an ocean distance and notches to mark his measured days had separated them. That night, returning to Cornwall and learning of the promise between Francis and Elizabeth, what war, a disfiguring injury, and imprisonment had failed to accomplish became a crippling handicap to Ross. Shock, disappointment, and failure wounded his heart and his soul. Nothing that had gone before now mattered, and nothing to come would save him upon learning of her intended marriage to Francis. A despair permeated him.

That it was Francis whom Elizabeth choose was a reprimand, suggesting Ross had failed her, left her without hope, denuded her future, and force her to accept another, even if only a feeble imitation. For Ross any other man would have received his challenge, a duel to the death if necessary, but not Francis. Of those whom he had loved, Francis had been a constant companion in his life. Cousins but closer and more bonded as brothers. As young boys Ross and Francis did everything together. His mother and Aunt Verity had been the best of friends, keeping Uncle Charles and his father amiable, in spite of their contrary personalities and divergent lifestyles. Often when visiting and listening to them recall their youthful escapades, Ross saw the bond of brothers that had existed for them as children. The rift emerged only when Uncle Charles, the elder inherited the main share of the family fortune, including land, money, mines, served as the civic representative of the family, and enjoyed respect within society did their bond slacken. As the second son, Joshua had carved out a life, cobbling together from a range of pursuits and engaging in financial exploits, often skirting the law in the quest of his patrimony. Their incompatible lifestyles defined and separated them. While the women lived, the brothers remained respectful and bound by family ties. It was only with the death of his mother and then Aunt Verity three years later, that the two men, so different in aspect parted. By then his father was beyond caring about status, success, or family responsibilities. Instead Joshua had become a reprobate, and Uncle Charles facing his own loss, let any familial closeness ebb away.

Early after Francis and Elizabeth married, Ross sought to avoid encountering her. Avoidance only meant out of sight. Yet at night she came to him in his dreams, they infested his mind and reminded him, always of Elizabeth, near, smiling at him, arms out stretched, desiring him, but ever though he strived, never attained, she remained just beyond his reach, slipping away, night after night as Eurydice did from Orpheus. Ross still ached with a yearning and desire for her, and any chance meeting opened the wound and reminded him of his love and his loss. Tormented, betrayed by his own mind, Ross withdrew and sought only to live as a confirmed bachelor, focused only on his land and obligations.

Even when she bore Francis a son, Ross could only see Elizabeth through the eyes of a youthful lover. Elizabeth was not diminished or changed for him. Accepting she could never be his, yet never ceasing to love her, Ross existed in a limbo. Even when he took Demelza for a wife, his reasons were drawn from pragmatic drives. With Demelza already ensconced in his life and so willing to love and accept him without expectation or demands, Ross discovered an existence without Elizabeth. And gradually, as Ross realized Demelza completed his life, he felt her enter his heart. But Ross conceded a place in his heart was always held only by Elizabeth. Ross, assumed that this was merely an homage to his youthful sweetheart. A respect for the girl who opened him to love. And reasoning that love, true love never dies, for to stop loving someone was proof of a deceitfulness, both to the beloved and of one’s self Ross believed. Something about being deceitful left a foul miasma in his mind. Love was like faith, it could not be explained to others, only experienced. While Demelza had entered his heart with love and was now his beloved, Elizabeth still haunted his spirit. When he found himself alone with her, Ross could not cease to press his case and remind her of his presence and their former attachment. Unable to control himself, Ross behaved like a child, taunting Elizabeth, seeking an admission, needing her to know he was still a presence in her life as she was in his. While they gathered for the harvest celebration, Ross had found Elizabeth alone, and again insisted on reminding her of what might have been. Such loutish behavior he could not stop, even with Francis and Demelza nearby.

But finally, that night, years gone between them, when Elizabeth shared her secret; he heard the words he had sought for so long. She had been unhappy married to Francis, she had made a mistake, and she did still love Ross. Those few words resurrected something in Ross. Though he first disliked this confession, it upset the balance he had finally achieved. Still the words floated into his heart and fanned an old ember.

For a while, her confession dwelt deep within his soul. No matter the words, the feelings, the memories, nothing could be done. It was a revelation, but one without a future. But then Francis died, and Ross became the head of the Poldarks, responsible for all members of the family. Now he had two households to consider and found he divided his time, perhaps a little too unequally and not well enough to balance the needs of all. He returned home exhausted at night to a waiting Demelza, but with Elizabeth he had vital meetings. Somehow the roles reverted, at Nampara, Demelza continued to run the house, ensure all his needs were met, she was at his beck and call, mistress of Nampara, Jeremy’s mother, but rarely his lover over these past months, in effect more servant and less wife. While at Trenwith Elizabeth languished without Francis to manage the estate and needed his every attention. Their relationship became more courting and less business. Meetings with Elizabeth were conducted in the library or at the dining table, with their heads bent over ledgers, discussing the future, the cares and needs of life. Ross explaining things to her, Elizabeth untutored in business, constantly confused and unable to contribute ideas, so dependent on him. And all the while trying to be there for Geoffrey Charles. He could not fuse the two into one, nor satisfy either completely. Ross thought of his words to Verity, perhaps he did desire to have both of them. Or perhaps he needed to be two Ross’.

Ross thought of the night he took Elizabeth. He believed or needed to believe that his going that night had only been to stop Elizabeth from marrying George, nothing more was intended. And yet, Demelza had challenged him, she knew, always she knew what he was thinking where Elizabeth was concerned. But, his rage was ripe and needed to be pricked to relieve the swelling in his soul that welled up that night with the foul proposal. Desperate to see Elizabeth, to explain, offer something to prevent this abomination, he pushed past Demelza, almost threatening her to step aside. His frantic ride across the moor should have cooled his fury, but with each beat of the hooves, all Ross could hear was a chorus of “I love him more.” An old phrase Elizabeth had given in excuse so many years ago, when she sought to dissuade him then, but now he feared this was another ploy, another opportunity for Ross to stop her from making a mistake. He must stop her from this folly. Though he could not have Elizabeth, he could save her from becoming yet another acquisition of George with only the intent to punish Ross.

Arriving and finding the house locked against him, he the head of the Poldarks, denied entrance to the family home, an insight of what George would do once he possessed Elizabeth. Finding Elizabeth in her bedroom ready for bed, as beautiful as ever, was another reminder of what life they might have shared had she not made this selfsame mistake so many years ago. In the moment, Ross was the master of the Poldarks Elizabeth had pledged herself to him, a promise of binding, and his yearnings and anger stilted for these many years fed his furry. Had she learned nothing from her past? All those years married to man she truly did not love, a half-life, and now willingly entering into a marriage with a man who sought to only to possess her. Offering herself in exchange for comfort and wealth. Had she not learned what that would mean again?

Ross was sure Elizabeth was testing him, she truly did need and certainly loved him, and if she would be content, he would find a way to resolve this. How or what Ross knew not, just that Elizabeth must not marry George, she must trust that he could somehow manage the situation. He had forfeited her once before to Francis, and their lives were irreparably changed. Her decision to marry George would have far deeper repercussions.

Yet once Ross arrived in her presence, Elizabeth was disobliging, adversarial, even accusatory. For once Elizabeth resisted him, demanding he offer her something else. The young girl he had loved transformed into a woman passionate and espousing her love for George. With that taunt, the man who only desired to protect and defend Elizabeth required her to finally fulfill her maidenly promise to him. Ross ceased, a man blinded by obsession and concupiscence faced Elizabeth. Though she resisted, her confession of still being in love with him surfaced and Elizabeth too surrendered to their long-denied lust and obsession to know the other. In the moment all thoughts of Demelza were lost in the need to ease an old ache.

That night Ross took Elizabeth several times, like newly married lovers ensconced in the dark separated from reality. And yet in the murky pre-dawn light, Ross awakened to the destruction he had spawned by his selfishness. Lying in bed was a woman he had once loved and made the ultimate sacrifice for. And now, she believed him to be an honorable man who would fulfill his pledge given with deed of taking her, leave his wife and marry her, in spite of the challenges to accomplish such an act. Elizabeth had asked what, he must think, when, soon, both reasonable questions from a woman who believed the man who had spent the night in her arms, breaking his vows, intended to do the honorable thing. Yet as he dressed, Ross realized waiting for him at Nampara was his wife whom he had pledged to forsake all others, even Elizabeth and not take carnal pleasures from another. 

What Ross would need to do to marry Elizabeth would effectively destroy her life. Both women would be branded; one ostracized for wrecking a marriage and the other scorned and abandoned by her husband for another woman. In that moment Ross realized he was unable to accomplish what Elizabeth expected and as a respectable widow was owed for his actions, nor was he able to renounce and forsake Demelza. Ross was caught, unable to determine how to resolve this, knowing the ability to obtain a divorce was a privilege of the wealthy, only the rich could afford the cost, and must be initiated by the husband and obtained through an Act of Parliament. To accomplish this would require an exposure of his, Demelza, and Elizabeth’s lives all played out before the members of their community. There would be the time, months waiting for the process, while the scandal and gossip would devastate both women. And Ross could not even afford to begin the claim. And yet, there was no guarantee that a divorce would be granted. And a church granted separation from bed and board only ended the husband’s financial responsibilities to his wife, but neither was free to marry others.

With that one act Ross had created an impossible situation, sullied Elizabeth, a woman he had truly loved, broken the trust of the woman he did love, and created a life without hope or future. What had he accomplished, Ross wondered? He could not take back what he had done, and he could not move forward, caught in a morass of his lack of self-control, three lives hung in the balance, depending on Ross to make a decision, the one thing he was incapable of doing. Yet his actions that one night had created a predestined a future for each woman, one they must live out and endure. Unable to rise to the challenge, Ross callously avoided Elizabeth, and without closure she was reduced to doing the one thing Ross sought to prevent. Elizabeth had put her marriage to George on hold, in good faith of Ross’ intentions. Ross could imagine, as the days passed and no word from him, Elizabeth realized Ross’ intentions had not been honorable or a foretaste of his pledge, nothing more than lust and malice. Perhaps she might think, he had only preyed on her love for him to humiliate George. Marrying George was her only honorable way to move forward. Ross realized he had taken his pleasure with Elizabeth but was inadequate in his obligation to accept his responsibilities. She would surely see he was no different than Francis, and certainly no better than George. Ross felt emasculated in his ability to provide satisfaction to either. Instead his obsequence reminded each of his impotence and left both women dangling.

And surely Ross realized, Demelza could only feel insulted and dishonored. She knew what he intended before he did. Standing between him and the door, his words were mortifying and threatening. As she stepped aside, he could now recall what he saw in her eyes, hurt, offense, and humiliation. But the Demelza he returned to had whetted those cruel insults into forged enmity, distaste, and disgust.  
That both women now had more reason to hate him than either ever had to love him, fully engulfed Ross. Understanding that Demelza stayed, not out of love for him, only the realization he controlled her life, and all she had was Jeremy. She could survive, even thrive without Ross, but should he take her son from her, she would wither. That one dependency for Demelza was the only thing stopping her from leaving. And if she left, the gossip would soon follow, and the path leading to Elizabeth would be as clear as the oxen turning over the fields. As the man, except for George’s exacerbated hatred and bent to punish the man who cuckold him, Ross had little to lose. He would be judged as the son of the father, a debauched libertine, the apple had not fallen far from the tree. But, Demelza and Elizabeth would both be ruined. A lifetime outcast, it would be a living death for Elizabeth who had no resources and no abilities. For Demelza, she was capable of enduring and surviving, but her life would be reduced to little more than what her father offered, a lifetime of hard work, and still seen as the uppity slut now scorned by her husband yet getting exactly what she deserved. 

Could Demelza’s wrath be so strong she would jeopardize both herself and Elizabeth, Ross wondered. She would be justified to seek some sort of redress for his behavior, and even if he did not greatly suffer, believing she was hurting him through Elizabeth’s fall from grace might be a fair compensation for her own pain. Such a bleak future swirled through Ross’ mind these many nights. By day he could disappear into the mine, numb his body and insulate himself from these ruminations with physical labor. But, at night alone, only his memories to keep him company, were played as cards turned over one by one as Aunt Agatha did to see the future, always mumbling of the evil that was to come. His reading had been cast, Ross was the evil that came and now the same, always the same, a future to be filled with pain, loss, and loathing. With that realization, Ross surrendered to Morpheus and joined his brother Phobetor to live another night of dreams where he was the monster.


End file.
